


you’re all i see, the very air i breathe.

by wonseokie



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, POV Second Person, Songfic, a songfic but it's based on a true story, lapslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-06-24 11:41:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15629976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonseokie/pseuds/wonseokie
Summary: you are home.yixing has dreams, but the universe seems too cruel for him to make them come true. when another chance leaves him disappointed and heartbroken, he decides it's time to choose between who he was when he started, and who he is as he stares at his future.in which: yixing is out-of-orbit, but every great homecoming starts with an adventure of getting lost.i’m coming home to you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yamzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yamzy/gifts), [slytherbyun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherbyun/gifts).



> the title is taken from Ben & Ben’s Ride Home, a great song to dedicate to the lost souls you want to guide home (in my case, yixing to junmyeon.)

**day 0**

_i can’t believe that i would see the day, where i would choose if i should leave or stay._

it was overcast, the sky outside grey and befitting of your mood. half of your blinds are closed, the other half open just enough for you to have a glimpse of the darkness that awaits you. a darkness that isn’t part of you.

your phone has been dead for over thirty-six hours. there’s a certainty in your gut that there must be at least one person panicking over your extended silence, yet a voice in your head tells you _no one cares enough to check_. logically, you know it isn’t true. you have your sister. your grandmother. and—

you cut the thought off, shifting so you lay on your back instead. there’s a dull pain in your chest that you couldn’t quite explain. it might be heartburn, you realize; you haven’t eaten since you got home, which was… you blink. you don’t know how long you’ve been home, lying in bed, surrounded by darkness.

yet you have no motivation to know, either. you have no motivation, period. you are gutted, emptied, left by the roadside and forgotten. there’s nothing left in your chest – maybe that’s why the pain is so dull, because you’re hollow. there’s nothing there to hurt anymore. your head pounds and your eyes are crusty, yet you have no more tears to cry. you are empty.

your eyes stray towards the strings put up on your wall, polaroids and printouts clipped in random order. there’s no warmth or giddy rush of emotion, as you have gotten used to. the pictures that once brought you peace in your most tumultuous hours now arouse nothing in the emptiness that your chest.

you decide to close your eyes.

 

_“we apologize, mr. zhang, but the company is prioritizing the new production, but we promise – it’s close. it’s almost here. just wait a few more months, alright?”_

 

ah, right. you remember now, why you’re so empty, so gone, so sapped of everything you’ve ever known yourself to be. it’s been almost a year since you were promised the spotlight, and yet you’re still in the last line of the company’s _priorities_. it doesn’t seem to matter how many sleepless nights you spend at the studio or the practice rooms.

you simply aren’t enough.

five years ago, you came to this city with big dreams and an even bigger heart, your passion for your craft a blazing inferno in your chest. you were young, excitable, impressionable; easily lured into public performances and low-pay gigs.

it’s how they found you. the street gig isn’t actually _legal_ , just in that there’s no law that states whether or not you’re allowed to have street performances. at that point you’ve been in the city for over two months, and have made friends with the local music scene. you loved the way things worked; you loved even more the freedom they gave you to _express_.

on a hot summer day, wearing a white tank top and old mic in your hands, you decided to sing one of the first songs you’ve ever written – a love song written when you were eleven, an ode to your grandparents’ love story.

 _let the sunshine in your window, the breeze softly kissing your skin,_ you sing, eyes closed and soul swaying along to the soft acoustic guitar your bandmate is playing. _in the place where you and i met, a little flower begins to grow. oh, how i’d love to brain them into your hair – your smile’s more than i’ve ever deserved. you can take your mind off of life, i’m here to keep you safe and loved._

after the performance, someone approaches you and asks you if you’re interested in becoming a trainee. you can self-produce, they said. if that was an original song, then you can get far in the industry.

you were young, excitable, impressionable; easily lured into a company that has now simply kept you in the basement.

you’re aware they might not be doing it on purpose, that there was basis as to who they’re allowing to debut before you. but you’ve been at this for so long – it’s been an entire year since you were promised a debut, and yet – here you are, empty and alone, dried out of tears and reeking of despair.

maybe you just don’t deserve it as much as those they’ve debuted do. maybe you haven’t worked as hard – lately, you’ve been getting six hours of break every day, ever since they announced your debut. Maybe you should go back to five, or even four and a half; you’re usually a fast eater, and you don’t need five hours of sleep a day. you’ve been going on four hours since you started training. there must be something you could do—

 _go away_.

the voice isn’t harsh. the words aren’t, either; they sound _enticing_. to go away; to be away. to disappear for a while. to leave your life for a few hours, days, a _week_. to just be yixing again, and not the trainee you’ve been for five years. to remember why you wanted to do this, to understand, once again, what would make debuting worth it.

there’s a face that flashes in your mind, for just a millisecond – a face in every one of those polaroids and printouts on your wall, a face that takes up half of your phone’s memory, a face that makes up half of your _heart_.

for the first time since your phone died, you decide to plug it in and wait for it to light up. it takes a while for all of your missed notifications to come barreling in—almost discouraging you from going through any of them.

you were right – there were some messages worried about your silence, mostly from the other trainees you’ve known for years. but there was one particular message that struck you and made you pause.

 

> **junnie:** i heard. are you alright?  <received: 08:12 PM>
> 
> **junnie:** xing?  <received: 01:32 AM>
> 
> **junnie:** i can’t call you. please tell me you’re alright.  <received: 12:09 PM>
> 
> **junnie:** i love you.  <received: 04:57 PM>

 

the last message was sent just four minutes ago, but the weight of it seemed to make your phone heavier than it actually is. your hand starts shaking as you choose to call him instead. it barely takes a ring before a relieved voice says, “ _yixing?”_

“hi, junnie,” you whisper into the phone, just as relieved as he is to hear each other’s voices. “i miss you.”

there’s a sigh. _“are you alright?”_

“I’ve been better.” a pause. “I want to leave.”

silence. and then, _“when?”_

“today. tomorrow. i don’t know, as soon as possible.”

_“where do you want to go?”_

you smile. “anywhere but here, junmyeon,” you whisper. “anywhere but here.”

there’s another pause, this time heavier and with more meaning. you can almost hear the fear in junmyeon’s expression, the loss in his eyes. you haven’t seen each other in _days_.

“i’m coming back,” you whisper. a promise. “i’ll come back, junmyeon, i just need to get out.”

_“n-no, i understand – xing, i understand, you don’t have to explain.”_

“but i do,” you tell him, gentle. “i do, because i love you. because you don’t have to be so scared of me leaving you forever. i’ll leave, and then i’ll come back.”

 _will you stay_? junmyeon’s silence asks you over the phone. the silence in your mind and your chest is enough of an answer for the both of you. at least, for now.

“i’ll come back,” you tell him again. “i love you. i’ll see you next week.”

there’s a breath. and then, “i love you, too. take care of yourself, xing. see you.”

and the line goes dead.

your heart – what’s left of it – dies along with it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a look through time, on the day yixing leaves.

you meet junmyeon in your second year of traineeship. he’s two years older than you are, and had been debuted as an actor at the age of 17. now, at 21, not only is he an established actor, but he’s also a record-breaking solo artist, a theater singer, and author of a best-selling fiction about a boy who dreams of stars, and the universe that moves to guide him there.

you’ve never told him, but before you even met, you were a fan. you first heard of him in a drama called “lipstick”, where he played the protagonist’s sickly young brother she gives up her dreams of having her own line of makeup for. you became a bigger fan when you first heard his single _alone,_ which sings about a boy who sits in a coffee shop every day, waiting for the day his penpal finally follows their promise to meet.

it turns out they’re both alone in the world, because they live in separate universes. it’s the song that prompted you to write _alistair,_ a song about a star striving to send its light to the love of its life, only to die a few decades before it reaches its destination.

and, because you were a fan, you also read his book when it was released. you may or ma not have cried about the ending.

you enter the company building at 5 in the morning, after a run, just like you always do and you freeze in your tracks because. he’s right there.

kim junmyeon. _suho._ the man you’ve adored for years. and he’s looking at you, smiling adorably.

“hi!” he says, moving forward to shove his hand at you. “i’m junmyeon!”

“i know,” you end up saying, much to your chagrin. “um. i’m yixing,” you continue. “i’m... um...”

something seems to dawn on junmyeon because he brightens up even further - if that was possible - to send you an even bigger smile. “oh, right! good luck in training, yixing! i’ll see you around!”

and before you can blink, he’s gone. you’re bewildered, embarrassed, and more than a little confused.

just what did he _mean,_ see you around?

apparently, when junmyeon said _see you around,_ he meant it literally. every single day since the first time you saw him at lobby, you’ve met junmyeon in the building - in the hallways, the studio, the practice room, the _cafeteria._

finally, tired of being confused as hell, you decide to talk to junmyeon the next time you see him. just a casual greeting, you think; don’t blurt out _what the hell are you doing here?_

oh, but please - when has your brain ever followed your wishes?

of _course_ the first thing that comes out of your mouth when you see him - stretching in the practice room you’ve sequestered since you started - is, “wait, what in the world are you even doing here?”

that’s how you find out that junmyeon kim, stage name suho, has signed on to your company for the foreseeable future.

which meant kim junmyeon, your idol at thirteen, will be working alongside you for the foreseeable future.

*

you’re not sure where, or when it starts; when skinship with junmyeon stops being practical and starts being affectionate, when early morning texts and post-stage phone calls became routine, something to look forward to. when junmyeon stops being _idol_ only to become biggest crush.

you’re terrified at first. you’re not sure where your feelings are taking you, but it’s taking you deeper. and then, the night before your birthday - the night before junmyeon has to leave for a fanmeet in another city - he leans over your lap to press his mouth against yours. quick, easy.

he pulls away with the cutest giggle you’ve heard in your entire - albeit short - life. “i got tired of waiting for you to kiss me. happy birthday, xing,” he says, as if it’s the easiest, simplest thing on earth.

it isn’t.

it isn’t - he’s a blooming artist on his way to the peak of his career and you’re just a trainee the company seems unenthusiastic about debuting. you’re barely 21, and he’s a foreigner. the company doesn’t have strict rules about dating, but the open secret in the industry is that, once you’ve debuted, the public owns you. including your relationships.

so it isn’t the easiest, simplest thing; but holding junmyeon’s hands; kissing his nose, lips, face; holding him in your arms after a tiring day... junmyeon makes the complication worth it. 

*

you don't get to date, not in the traditional sense. your 'outings' are restricted to indoors, where you spend time either at your dorm or at his apartment. food runs happen so late at night there's little chance of you bumping into fans, although you still make sure to wear clothes that hide your identities. you don't hold hands in public, and he can barely acknowledge your existence at company events.

it doesn't stop you from falling. 

you fall for his hands first. you think,  _those are the hands that write those songs. that wrote the book. that's the hand that holds my hand when i get sad_. junmyeon's hands are strong but soft, firm but gentle. when he holds your hand you feel like you can take over the world. every scar, callous, mole has a story - like that time he tried to cook an egg and ended up splashing oil on his fingers; or that time he looked at his hands and realized there was a mole on his palm, right in between his middle and ring fingers. 

 _oh god, please don't tell me you have a hand kink,_ he teases you, the first time you press a kiss against his fingers. you don't answer. you just kiss him, his hands, his cheeks. he deserves all the kisses.

 

**day 1.**

it's four in the morning when you arrive at the airport. the guide tells you a boat will leave for your island destination in twenty minutes, if you're willing to shell out a little bit of money for the shuttle to get you there. you don't think about the cost of the trip. you agree and ask them if they have food, because you're honestly a little starved. maybe leaving without any plans at all is not a good idea, but you're already here - you might as well make the most of it.

the small city the airport is located in is scenic and quiet, so unlike where you just came from, so unlike your hometown, even. the port is its most active area, especially at this time of day, when the fishermen are just coming to shore with their catch, hoping to sell in the early morning market. while many see you as a tourist, these people see you as a potential buyer. as you walk by them, many of them offer you their ware - fish of different sizes, colors, and shapes. your heart breaks as each person you pass offers you the same amount for less money.

these men and women break their backs every night, risking sleep and leaving their families, only to sell everything for - one meal a day. a part of you rebels against the realization that every person here must have a dream, a dream of  _more_ \- and yet here you are, already having more than any of them, and greedy, you just. want. more.

you see the boat driver and approach, hoping to just get to the island and let yourself be free - of your thoughts, of your persona, of the issues you're trying to get over by coming here in the first place. you thank your driver, and you get on the boat.

the sky, as the sun rises, is beautiful.

"so are you here alone?" your boat driver asks you, glancing at you before looking straight at the horizon once more.

you nod. "yeah, just a short break, you know?"

the man chuckles. "yes, i know. on that island, people break their backs to leave, for bigger dreams and better opportunities in the city, while you city people only come here for a vacation."

you look at the man, confused and a little rattled. you don't feel or hear derision in the man's tone, but his words make you feel like he's implying something negative. you're about to open your mouth to ask when he speaks again.

"i hope you enjoy your break, and that whatever it is you're taking a break from, you find a way to solve."

you get off of his boat stunned. as you gather your bags and wave him off, you begin to question whether you're as easy to read as the man made it seem. does everyone who sees you see the conflict? the burden? the pain? the exhaustion? do they see the fire of your passion slowly burning out in our chest? or do they simply see a tired man, hoping for a reprieve in a quiet, almost unknown island?

your toes sink into the sand the same way you can feel tiredness sink into your bones. you haven't really slept since last night, when you booked this flight, and you weren't able to sleep at the airport or during the flight, either. your eyes feel heavy and there's a familiar pounding in your head, a feeling you know can only be relieved by a good night's rest. you check your phone to see there's barely any signal, but you still try your luck to send a text.

 

> **xing:** got to the island in once piece, at least. <sent 5:38 am>

 

there's no immediate reply, not that you're expecting one. junmyeon had decided to rehearse until late last night. guilt lances through you - a part of you knows that he probably has problems coping with the fact that you chose to leave.  _you left, a part of you planning on leaving without telling him_. you wonder if his abandonment issues have always been there, or whether they came as a result of your time together.

you wince as you turn to look for your hotel, hoping to find rest. if you could find rest in a place as restless as a city, then you can find rest here.

 

the hotel is nice, quiet, and well-kept. the bed is soft and warm, but you feel empty. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all: apologies. this was not how i intended for this work to go. it has, for the most part, been written; it just needed a lot of fleshing out. i wanted to do the experience, the characters, and their dreams justice, but... well, sometimes, happy endings don't come true. maybe i'll come back to this work one day, rework it and share how it was meant to be. for now, i hope you enjoy this (abrupt) ending.

**day 5**

it’s raining outside your window. a part of you finds wry amusement in the way the weather seems to be sympathizing with your mood; a bigger part of you—the part that always, _always_ won—is relieved when the city seems to open its arms as your plane lands on the tarmac. _welcome home_ , it seems to say. _lost child, have you found your way?_

you feel chastised. and then you quietly laugh at yourself. you are allowing a city—omnipresent as it is—to reprimand you, as if you were a child. as you wait for the disembarkation, your eyes stray to the thin book in your hands. you haven’t even gotten to the middle and yet already you are immersed in the character, in the boy who has a dream, whose family was lost in the turbulent sea, whose childhood was a war between hunger and fear of being gunned down.

in it, the boy says, _‘my mother welcomes me with open arms, although i know that a part of her will always see me as the child who left’_. overhead, the automated voice tells you, _thank you for choosing…_ and you tune the airline voice out. everyone around you has prepared to disembark.

 _will you welcome me in your arms?_ you ask your city.

you remember the boat driver, who told you, _everyone leaves the island for the city, to live the dream of feeding their families. while you city people only come here for a short vacation, but we appreciate it more than anything_.

the city of dreams, and yet it killed – is killing – yours. yours, and a million others’; your chest throbs with an image of junmyeon on-stage, doing what he has been dreaming of. you realize: the city of dreams kills the dreams of those who don’t deserve it, because there’s not enough space for the happiness of those who do.

you’ve come to accept the conclusions in your mind, and though slow on the uptake, you feel your heart following suit. your phone pings with a notification, and you don’t even have to look to see who is already sending you a message.

 

 **junnie:** i’m at the arrivals bay. i miss you. see you!

 **xing:** i miss you too, junnie. i’ll see you soon.

 

there was something about the island, something liberating. it was a living, _breathing_ presence that seemed to feed its visitors life straight into the bloodstream; a warm table filled with food for the soul just waiting for you to sit down. the island was unpredictable, and simple, and quiet; you never know when you’ll have power or when you’ll have to go outside because a spider or twelve made it inside your house overnight.

and yet there’s something about the city, something… comforting. it’s a predictable, safe, and expected space. you’re sure that when you leave your condo, there will be at least two convenience stores at the end of the block. all you have to do is to look and act tough, and pay attention to your surroundings; muggers don’t usually go for the attentive ones. make sure you check your phone once in a while, and you’ll survive and be social even when you’re so far away, so _isolated_ from everyone you know in life.

both the island and the city carved themselves in your heart. one a place that almost killed you, yet welcomed you to – hopefully – give you a second chance; the other a place that reminded you of who you were, and everything you want to become. both the island and city also carved a place _for_ you. you have no idea when you’ll go back – maybe in five, ten, twenty-five years; maybe never again. but you know that there will always be an ancient tree in the middle of a business district, unimpeded by the development around it, waiting with a slip of paper with your name in it wrapped around one of its branches. and, in the city, in its streets and corners and parks, you’ll be remembered as the boy who sang about flowers and smiles and sunshine.

but neither of those places will ever mean more to you than _this_ , than the arms that feel like _warmth and safety and home and love_. there’s no place that will ever replace the space this man has made in your heart – the lame jokes, the quiet laughter, the unconditional care. and there’s no place you will ever make a deeper mark than in his heart. you can feel it, in your hands; the way he trembles as he holds you close, the way his breath barely leaves his lungs as if afraid that such miniscule movement would make you disappear.

your eyes can’t help but look up, and up, and up – you don’t see stars here, but you see the lights of thousands of buildings and cars and streetlights. your heart has settled. your dreams, they may never come true; but we don’t always dream about the same thing. you let yourself breathe.

a new dream will be born, and a new dream will come true. this won’t be your last dream.

_you never really love someone until you learn to forgive._

 

(and sometimes, the person we need to forgive the most, is ourselves.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to [ m ](https://twitter.com/stanyeol_) and [ e ](https://twitter.com/jongdaks) , to whom this work is dedicated to, and without whom this would never have happened: i'm sorry. a large part of what happened in the five days i was gone was supposed to be here, but. some dreams just need to be laid to rest. to those of you who read it to the end anyway: thank you. i hope the universe is kind enough to grant your dreams.
> 
> [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/k0yawonu)

**Author's Note:**

> for [ m ](http://twitter.com/stanyeol_) and [ e ](http://twitter.com/jongdaks) , without whom i would not have this fandom, specifically, this pairing, to vent feelings out to. for l, i, and p, who might never see this work. for m, who has always been there.
> 
> and for all the kids who were almost there, but the universe decides to give a last fuck you and take it away from you.  
> may we all learn to hold on to those who stayed... and forgive those who left.
> 
> this is based on all of ben&ben's songs, because i've been listening to those songs on repeat.


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